Wolf in Sheep's Clothing (Big Bad Wolf)

by Charlie Adhara

“We have very similar beliefs about what makes a healthy pack dynamic. When I decided to open this place I knew—I knew there wasn’t anyone else I trusted and respected more.”

  “Was—”

  The lights flickered off. The air itself seemed to sigh, long and low, as every machine in the building slowed to a complete stop—dying as one.

  “Wonderful.” Vanessa sighed. The enormous window still let in plenty of the gray natural light. It made her look much younger, softer somehow, in the gentle blur of shadows.

  “It’s not even raining yet,” Cooper said, surprised.

  “Wind must have brought down a tree. It happens. A lot. But the generators should be kicking in...”

  The lodge remained eerily quiet. You never realize quite how much ambient sound you’re living in until a power outage, Cooper thought.

  Vanessa straightened, frowning. “I hate to do this, but I should really check up on what’s going on. Would you mind if we finished our conversation another time?”

  Cooper hastily stood. “Of course, that’s fine. This isn’t even a session, for god’s sake.”

  He got himself together and noted how her eyes darted to a cabinet across the room before crossing the room to open the office door, flicking the inside lock to prevent reentry. When she looked over at him, he pretended to have been busy wiping his eyes again and not seen.

  Cooper followed her and took over holding the door. “Ladies who make me cry first,” he insisted in a joking tone, leaving her with little choice but to walk out in front of him. Not his usual style at all, but as soon as her back was to him, Cooper’s hand slid down the edge of the door edge and flicked the lock back into open position, coughing to cover the click. He closed the office door behind them both.

  “I really do want to continue our conversation,” Vanessa said. “I can recommend some resources for you in your area.”

  “Thank you,” Cooper said honestly. “But I’d better track down Andrew now.”

  Vanessa hesitated, then put a light hand on his arm. Cooper felt a wave of something unexpected. He felt...drawn to her in a way he might have once assumed was sexual attraction in his youth. Now, more in touch with the nuances of desire, he wasn’t sure what it was. A calming, sweet pleasure to be near her. To feel trusted by her. Attachment because she’d saved him from the river? Some misplaced affection resulting from his current emotional rawness?

  “This is a good thing,” she said. “But don’t feel obligated to explain yourself. Not even to your mate.”

  “I guess that’s the PTSD doctor talking and not the couple’s therapist.”

  Vanessa smiled oddly, an unexpected hardness in her gaze. “A real partnership doesn’t exist without the individual. Don’t ever sacrifice yourself for anyone.”

  Cooper blinked but nodded, and they said goodbye. He walked in the opposite direction of her for a couple minutes, then turned back around to the office.

  The door opened easily and he closed it behind him as softly as possible. The file cabinet she’d looked at before leaving was his first stop. That was locked. He tried the desk next. Open, but useless. The only thing of interest was a prescription pad in Vanessa’s name: Dr. Claymont.

  Cooper searched under ledges, in the glass bowls decorating the surfaces and all over the bookshelf, but couldn’t find a key for the cabinet. The silence of the electricity-free lodge felt tense and watchful. He kept expecting to pull a book out of its spot and find a face watching him.

  But maybe that was his hypervigilance and increased jumpiness talking. Cooper scowled. He couldn’t think about that now. It was...too large. Too heavy. He needed the comfort of focusing on the job and the job alone.

  While Cooper ran his hands over the tops of books, searching, he brushed over the stiff edge of something sticking up slightly between the pages. He pulled the book out, The Mindful Child, and flipped it open to the bookmarked page. It appeared to be nothing more than a passage on forgiveness, but the bookmark itself was interesting. A photograph.

  Cooper recognized Vanessa easily enough, though she couldn’t have been older than fourteen or fifteen. Behind her was an adult man with a stern face, eighties-style mustache and large glasses that caught the glare, hiding his eyes. One of the man’s hands was on Vanessa’s shoulder, the other held the hand of a small child standing beside him. Cooper wasn’t great at distinguishing kids’ ages, but he seemed to be a boy between the ages of three and six. The child grinned at the camera, the only happy one in the photograph. The three of them stood in front of a pretty white house, mostly shadowed by trees.

  On the back someone had handwritten one word. Unforgivable.

  Well, that wasn’t the creepiest borderline cursed thing he’d ever seen or anything.

  Cooper reached for his phone to take a quick picture when a heavy thud sounded from behind the bookcase. He tossed the picture back in the book and replaced it on the shelf, backing away, heart pounding. He managed to shove his cell deep into the loveseat cushions just as the bookcase itself swung open. Nielsen stepped through.

  “This is interesting,” Nielsen said after a moment. He seemed amused, but his eyes were dark, cold, furious.

  “I lost my phone,” Cooper said. “I thought it might have fallen out somewhere when I was talking to Dr. Claymont. Nice secret passage. Narnia’s keeping well, I assume.”

  “Dramatic little thing, doing what you do best,” Nielsen said lazily. “Zero for two, though, I’m afraid. Vanessa had me build the bookshelf onto the door rather than disturb her perfect view.”

  “Chef, landscaper, carpenter. No danger of you becoming superfluous,” Cooper said lightly.

  Nielsen leaned against Vanessa’s desk, nearly in the same place she’d been in only fifteen minutes before, though his pose was much different. Hands behind his back, legs spread. “I’m a man of many talents,” he said.

  Cooper shifted, looking away. “I should find my phone.”

  “Of course,” Nielsen said. There was a slight mocking edge to his tone. “Where have you looked?” He looked pointedly around the office. “Maybe it’s in here,” Nielsen opened one of Vanessa’s desk drawers.

  “What are you trying to say?” Cooper said coolly.

  Nielsen shrugged. “Just trying to be helpful. You know, most of the wolf couples who come through here aren’t so different from human couples.”

  “I never thought they were,” Cooper said stiffly.

  “Really? ’Cause they certainly think so.” Nielsen stood and walked slowly around the room, dragging a finger over the shelves. “They come here thinking all their problems can be distilled down to a question of dominance. Everything will be fine, if they find the right balance of alpha to follower. If they get the right AQs. If everyone just knows their place, then they’ll make the perfect pack,” Nielsen said, enunciating those last two Ps viciously.

  “But that’s not what you think?”

  “Just a lot of bullshit masking the same issues everyone else has. Trust. Do you trust me not to hurt you? Do you trust me to make a decision for my life? Check under the couch.”

  It was such an abrupt change in topic, Cooper didn’t even comprehend what Nielsen had said at first. “What?”

  “Check under the couch. For your...phone.”

  Cooper eyed him, then carefully knelt, keeping Nielsen in his peripheral as long as possible. Bending over, he looked quickly for the phone he knew wouldn’t be there.

  “Nope,” Cooper said, straightening quickly.

  “Try again,” Nielsen said. “On the bottom. Like this.” He gestured rubbing his hand around, palm up.

  Cooper refused to look away from Nielsen this time, defense on high alert, as he felt up the underside of the couch. Toward the very center he brushed across a small key taped to the felt.

  “Ring, ring,” Nielsen said, holding his fingers in the shape of a phon
e to his own ear. “It’s for you.”

  “What is it?” Cooper asked, unamused.

  “Your chance to check if you can trust Andrew,” Nielsen said. He nodded at the file cabinet. “All the guests’ AQs. Past, current, yours, his.” He walked slowly toward Cooper, where he knelt by the love seat. “Isn’t that what you’re in here for?”

  “It’s not my business.” Cooper stood hurriedly, not wanting to be kneeling at Nielsen’s feet. Unfortunately, that just positioned them standing very close, with no room to back up or he’d fall over the couch. “I thought you said it was all bullshit anyway.”

  “Just because something’s a delusion doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect us in real ways.”

  “Another tidbit you’ve picked up working here?” Cooper asked.

  “More like a family motto.”

  Behind them the door to the office opened abruptly, and Paul Claymont strode in. His eyes widened when he saw Cooper and Nielsen standing inches apart in the middle of his wife’s private office. The fact that neither of them should have been in there didn’t seem to be his number one concern, though.

  “Get away from him,” Paul said harshly, grabbing Nielsen’s arm and yanking him away from Cooper. “Are you insane? He’ll smell you on him.”

  “We weren’t—” Cooper started. “I just dropped my phone in here somewhere.”

  Nielsen’s eyes were alight with curiosity, darting between Paul and Cooper. “Why so worried, Paulie?”

  Paul was pale and sweating again. “I’m not. I mean, I am. Ranger Beck is here again. He’s downstairs taking a look at why the generator’s not going.” He gave Nielsen an irritated look. “Like you should be doing. Where the hell have you been? Vee’s frantic.”

  “Helping our guest look for his phone,” Nielsen said in a mocking sort of way.

  Paul sniffed harshly a few times, then plunged his hand into the couch cushions and pulled Cooper’s phone out with the efficiency of an eagle plucking a fish from dark water. “There you are. Now you can rejoin your mate.” It wasn’t quite an order, but there was an unspoken but obvious please god, just go attached.

  Nielsen, on the other hand, looked irritated that Cooper had been telling the truth. Apparently. He snapped at Paul, “What are you doing up here if Beck is poking around downstairs?”

  “He’s asking for Kreuger’s forwarding address,” Paul said miserably. “Again. God, what a mess. And of course it had to be this weekend when—” He glanced guiltily at Cooper and quickly continued, “When De Luca’s here, I mean.”

  “De Luca’s here?” Nielsen said sharply. “The De Luca?”

  “The brother. Daniel.”

  “Why?” Nielsen demanded.

  “For the same reasons as anyone else, I’m sure,” Paul said, not looking at Nielsen. He reached into his pocket. He pulled out a key that he quickly fitted into the file cabinet, opening it. For confidential files, they certainly seemed readily accessible to a ton of people. “Where the hell is his file? Why would—”

  He didn’t get to finish the question. A scream split the air. It came through the vents, below their feet.

  Chapter Eight

  Of all the possibilities Cooper had prepared himself for when rushing after Nielsen and Paul through the locker room and down the dark steps to the basement, Park being shoved up against the wall aggressively by Ranger Beck was not one of them.

  “Get off of him,” Cooper said immediately, striding toward them. Single-minded fury burned across his skin like wildfire. He had almost reached them when a hand grabbed his arm and tugged him back.

  “Wait,” Nielsen’s voice hissed into his ear. “Just wait.”

  “...stay out of this. I’ll handle it. Is that clear?” Beck was saying, keeping a tight grip to Park’s sleeve, near his shoulder.

  Park wasn’t even looking at him. He was staring intently over Beck’s shoulder. Across the dark room, Reggie was doubled over, Dr. Joyce at her side, murmuring something in a calming tone. Even from where Cooper stood, he could see Reggie was trembling. Her back was bent oddly and she seemed to be having a hard time getting her legs under her well enough to stay upright.

  Clack.

  Cooper almost thought he’d imagined it. But no, there it was again. The distinct, flat sound of rock bumping rock.

  “She’s losing it,” Nielsen murmured. There was a hint of excited fascination in his voice.

  Clack.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Paul said hurrying in front of Reggie and Joyce, a vain attempt to block Beck’s view. “What is going on here?”

  “Mr. Claymont, could you please inform your guest here that he’s interfering with a crime scene?”

  “Crime scene?” Paul choked.

  “Figured out why your generators weren’t working.” Beck held up a largish clear plastic bag. An evidence bag. Inside Cooper could make out some neon-green fabric. The same neon green Monty had been wearing yesterday. Except this one was torn up and eighty percent stained with rusty, brown blood. “Found this shoved in the cooling system. That’s a Montclaire Mill shirt. What do you want to bet it’s Lee Llcaj’s? Double or nothing it’s Llcaj’s blood, too.”

  Another shuddering gasp sound came from Reggie and another clack echoed through the room.

  “What the hell is that sound?” Beck muttered, looking around.

  “Pipes, maybe,” Park said, voice blank. “She’s obviously upset. Dr. Joyce, take Reggie outside for some fresh air.”

  “No, no one’s going anywhere,” Beck demanded. “There you go playing policeman again. I don’t know what you people are trying to hide, but keep in mind that concealing a crime is also a crime.”

  Park’s attention slid coolly to Beck, and Cooper saw the man take an instinctual, hasty step back at the look in Park’s eyes. Not angry or frightened as one might expect from someone being manhandled, but devastatingly unbothered. Like a tiger just now noticing a twittering bird pecking at it. “What exactly do you think we’re hiding?”

  All four wolves had gone eerily still and watchful. Even Reggie was frozen in her bent-over position. Looking up through her lashes, shoulders hunched like this, Cooper could clearly imagine what she’d look like in fur.

  “I—” Beck was clearly unnerved by the utter lack of emotion and the different, strange tension in the air. Some subconscious instinct had him looking over at Nielsen and Cooper, but there was no help coming from that end. Even Nielsen was unusually reserved, the hand that had been gripping Cooper suddenly slack. Like he’d been surprised by something.

  Beck took another couple of steps away from Park, releasing his arm entirely and some of the tension in the room eased. “Well, I think you’re hiding the whereabouts of Thomas Kreuger, to start with,” he said, brazenness returning now that he was a fair distance away. He turned to Paul. “You and your wife have refused to cooperate when I was only looking to ask Kreuger some questions. Now that it seems he’s guilty of murder, I haven’t any choice but to make this official.”

  “Kreuger wouldn’t hurt Lee,” Reggie insisted shakily, head down, still hiding most of her face. “He wasn’t like that.”

  “I understand you want to think the best of your friend, miss,” Beck said, and it sounded more patronizing than gentle. “But I have multiple witnesses who saw Mr. Kreuger and Mr. Llcaj fighting. I also have an account that you and Mr. Llcaj got into a very public argument the week prior.”

  Surprisingly, Dr. Joyce spoke up. “I’m sure those same witnesses will also tell you that Llcaj was the one who attacked Kreuger.” He didn’t say anything about Reggie.

  “Well, it certainly looks like he got his revenge,” Beck said, waving the bag at them.

  Reggie’s whole body seemed to shudder, making a stifled, hurt sound.

  Park took a step toward Beck, distracting him and forcing his gaze away from her. “The problem is, I w
as just down here a couple hours ago, and there was no shirt then.”

  Beck’s eyes narrowed in on Park. “How would you know? You examined the generator?”

  “Yes,” Park lied. “I’m thinking of buying something similar.”

  “What were you doing down here a couple hours ago?”

  Park smiled cheerfully and leaned into his face. “Necking,” he enunciated slowly.

  Beck jerked back and then scowled as if annoyed at himself for reacting. “A fancy sex retreat like this and you expect me to believe you’re getting off in the boiler room and inspecting generators?” he snapped. “Give me a break.”

  Cooper cleared his throat, interrupting Beck’s outrage. “I was here, too. There was no shirt.”

  “And you are?” Beck asked.

  “I’m with him,” Cooper said soundly.

  Park’s expression turned decidedly pleased. A little out of place considering the circumstances. Cooper wondered if he didn’t claim Park often enough in public. Wondered if that was something Park liked.

  “The point is,” Cooper continued. “Unless you’re suggesting Kreuger snuck onto the property to hide incriminating evidence in his own office, I think we need to consider the possibility that he’s being framed.”

  “Monty,” Paul said immediately. “Of course it is. How convenient. How dramatic. A bloody shirt. Should we look around for muddy footprints, too? Secret compartments? Perhaps a name scratched into the floorboards? Or is that too tacky, even for her?”

  “Murder isn’t a joke, Mr. Claymont,” Beck said.

  “Save your sanctimony for Montclaire, officer,” Paul spat. “She’d do whatever it takes to ruin us. You like bets, hmm? I bet you anything you want she’s paid Llcaj, who has done nothing but harass my staff, to lay low so she can play ‘plant the clue’ all over the retreat and scare the guests away. If you’re so eager for answers, I suggest you take a hard look at her.”

  It was the most aggressive Paul had ever sounded. Though to be fair, Cooper had only really seen him pandering to Park or even Cooper himself. Seeing this glimpse of another side of him was...odd. It threw into the spotlight just how not himself Paul had been behaving.